


Safe In Your Arms

by Storm (larryjohnsn)



Category: No Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 06:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17996552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryjohnsn/pseuds/Storm
Summary: Luke wakes up from a nightmare and has a panic attack, and the last person he expects to help him shows up and comforts him.





	Safe In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> TW:
> 
> \- Panic attacks  
> \- References to PTSD  
> \- Mentions of murder and death of family members  
> \- Mentions of gunshot wounds  
> \- References to bullying  
> \- References to depression  
> \- Scars from past wounds that healed physically, but not emotionally 
> 
> It was 3 am and I couldn’t sleep so I wrote a short little thing about two of my boys that I love very much. Enjoy.

Luke awoke with a start, drenched in cold sweat. He immediately shot up in bed, screaming at the top of his lungs until his throat was raw.

He felt as if he couldn’t breathe. Everything was dark and blurry and his heart was pounding louder than a war drum in his ears. The demons in his head were screeching so loudly that he could barely hear himself think. Tears streamed down his face, rivers of brokenness as his body shook with horror. He threw the covers off of his body and quite literally leapt to his feet, his eyes darting around the room for a place to hide as he started to hear footsteps from down the hall.

Luke’s breathing became erratic and uncontrollable as images flashed through his mind, a slideshow of horrific memories. A man standing at the door of his room, holding a gun. A loud bang followed by screaming as excruciating pain tore through his body. Blood seeping into his clothing and pooling around his torso as loud sirens and muffled screaming filled his ears. A clap of thunder echoing across the endless sky as rain fell onto the lids of his parents’ caskets exactly 2 weeks later.

Luke gripped the scar on his chest through his shirt and for a moment he felt the pain of the bullet ripping through his flesh again. His body became weak and his knees buckled; he quickly reached out and grabbed the frame of his bed, leaning his weight on it in order to stop himself from falling.

He spat out indecipherable words in his panic, and he was just so _out of it_ that he didn’t even realize that the door slammed open. He then looked up and saw the silhouette of a person standing in the doorway. He immediately let out another blood-curdling scream and careened backwards, knocking things off of his dresser in the process.

It was as if he was back in his old room in his childhood home on the fifth night of November, 2015, with the murderer of his parents pointing a loaded gun at his chest. Without the support of the bed frame, Luke collapsed and fell to the ground. He used the rest of his strength to crawl backwards until his back hit the wall.

Struggling to separate his memories from reality, Luke sobbed and assumed a fetal position. He grabbed and pulled at his hair, weakly begging for the person not to hurt him. The wind howled outside, threatening to shatter the windows as it pushed against the building.

After what seemed like an eternity, Luke opened his eyes and tried to blink some of the tears back so he could see the person in the doorway more clearly. _Why hasn’t he shot me yet?_

That’s when the boy realized there was something different about the person. They didn’t have a gun, and they looked just as scared as Luke was.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Luke realized that the person wasn’t the murderer of his parents. It was his bully, Owen. Owen’s face was distorted with panic, confusion, and overwhelming concern. Luke recognized that he wasn’t in his old home, and it wasn’t the fifth of November, 2015. He shattered and the other boy’s name fell from his lips, a desperate cry for help. He reached out a shaking hand, silently begging for Owen to take it and hold it.

Owen hesitated and bit his lower lip. Luke was the boy he’d bullied. The boy he’d hurt and scarred and almost drove to suicide; The boy he’d broken down and beaten. The bully didn’t understand why or how, or what was going on, but he knew that Luke needed him. Luke, the boy Owen broke, was begging for his help and his help alone. Why?

After a second, the bully shoved all of his emotions and thoughts aside and walked to the panic-stricken boy, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. Luke instantly threw his arms around Owen, sobbing into his chest and hanging onto him like there was nothing else left in the world.

Luke was exposing himself at his lowest, most vulnerable point to his greatest enemy, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be alone. He needed Owen. And Owen didn’t know it yet, but he needed Luke too.

“I-I’m sorry,” Luke choked out in between sobs. “Please don’t-“

Owen finally wrapped his arms around the broken boy and pulled him closer, effectively silencing him. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Owen mumbled. “It’s okay.”

Luke let his bully hold him in a tight embrace. The warmth and support of another body was immensely calming. Luke still couldn’t control his breathing or shaking, and he couldn’t stop the tears from continuing to fall, but he could think clearly. The demons had stopped their screaming. They were completely silent.

Owen rested his chin on the top of the crying boy’s head and softly said, “I got you. You’re safe.”

And Luke knew that the bully’s words were true.


End file.
